Desolation Boulevard
by LastCorsair
Summary: Partners in a post-apocalyptic world laid waste by Salem and her minions, Blake and Weiss must keep a devil's bargain made with an enigmatic sage.


_The Demon's engine howled as it thundered through the night, headlights stabbing into the Stygian darkness._

Weiss gripped the wheel as tightly as she could, fighting to stay awake and alert. Between the darkness, her fatigue, and the speed she was driving at, any mistake on her part would be instantly fatal. She glanced at the woman in the passenger seat, fighting panic for a moment until she saw Blake draw a ragged breath. "Stay with me, Blake. No dying, right? Partners until the end of the world, we said."

"Right," Blake whispered, fighting to open her eyes. "So tired..."

"You rest, I'll handle this. I know where we can take you to get you fixed up real good."

"Stupid mistake. Shouldn't have..."

"Hush. We all make mistakes." _I've screwed up worse than this, not that I'll ever tell you._ "Just stay with me, we'll be there soon."

"Sing for me, Weiss, you have such a lovely voice. You should be a singer on stage somewhere, a whole stadium full of people there to hear you sing."

"Nonsense, that sort of thing doesn't happen anymore."

"It should, just for you."

"Alright, I'll sing. Any particular song?" Weiss glanced at Blake again nervously when she didn't answer right away, only to see that Blake's eyes were closed. Lacking the strength to speak again, Blake started humming. "Okay, _Danse Macabre?_ I can sing that." Weiss cleared her throat and began to sing.

" _Have we come to dance this dance again, my ever-smiling suitor..."_

Lights appeared on a ridge to her left, the whine of turbines growing over the sound of the Demon's own engines. Damn. She'd decided to take the chance, driving through the night, rather than risk Blake's life waiting until morning. Looks like her dice had come up snakeyes. Nothing she could do except try to outdrive the bandits. And keep singing, for Blake's sake.

" _You should know by now no matter how well you dance..."_

The raiders wove and dodged as they charged down the ridgeline towards them. A well-equipped bunch of raiders, given that they had hoverbikes. They'd have an edge on speed and maneuverability, but the Demon and Weiss had some surprises of their own.

" _You'll never dance well enough to claim me..."_

The first of the raiders pulled even with the Demon, leveling a weapon and trying to find a shot through the armored cage they'd mounted over the driver's side window. Weiss smirked and swerved the Demon into him, sending the hovercycle spinning out of control. Hovercycles might have a maneuverability and speed advantage compared to a wheeled vehicle, but the Demon had one thing a hover vehicle couldn't: _mass._

" _Your dancing's lovely, the music's divine..."_

The next raider kept his distance, the rider behind him firing a shotgun at them, trying to get a lucky hit in. But the Demon's armor held, letting Weiss grab the weapon next to her. When he came around for another shot, Weiss fired her own shotgun through the firing port, clipping the bike's turbine. _Two down._

" _But I'll never call a man as cold as you mine..."_

The next two came at her as a pair, one on each side. The one on her right faked a sideswipe, trying to herd her to one side. No sale. She met his faked sideswipe with real one of her own, sending him slewing to away. The other tossed a Molotov cocktail at her, the burning liquid spreading across the Demon's hood and side armor, making her an easier target for the other bandits but failing to do any real damage. _Scare tactic, trying to make me lose my nerve._

" _For I've already met my love, and you are not him..."_

This time the Molotov tosser pulled closer, aiming his throw for the windows. Her shot caught his third toss in his hand, covering him in burning liquid. _And I just washed the car,_ she thought with a laugh.

" _And I shall dance with him until he retires from the floor..."_

The sideswiper on her right came back, apparently having gotten control of his bike back. In the light of the flames on her hood, she could see him swinging a grappling hook over his head. Moron. What did he think he was going to do with that against a vehicle that probably weighed four or five times what that bike he was riding did? His hook snagged the Demon's armor, and Weiss slammed the brakes, hard, jerking him off his hovercycle. She immediately jammed her foot down on the accelerator, dragging the raider along behind her. _Oops. Bad night for him._

" _Then shall I dance with you once more..."_

Another raider pulled up behind her, just enough to one side where he could get a shot at her tires. She swerved to one side, spoiling his shot and putting him squarely behind her. She gauged the distance, then jammed on the brakes again, sending his bike slamming into the back of the Demon. The raider landed on the back of the Demon, clinging on desperately for dear life even as Weiss fishtailed back and forth trying to dislodge him. She couldn't help but laugh; she could even hear him swearing at her over the Demon's engine. Finally, he climbed up on the Demon's roof, reaching down with one hand to try and fire a pistol through the driver's firing port. Before he could get off a shot, Weiss hit the brakes again, sending him flying forward. She hit the accelerator again, driving the Demon over him without a thought.

The other raiders broke off, apparently deciding that five casualties was too high a price to pay for whatever they'd get from the Demon and its occupants.

* * *

Dawn had barely broken as Weiss pulled up to the battered little compound she'd been told to look for. She fishtailed the Demon up to the front door, angling it so Blake's door was as close as possible. She jumped out and yanked Blake's door open, gathering her partner in her arms and stalking up the front steps. Weiss tried the doorknob and found it locked, then shifted Blake's weight in her arms, freeing an arm to beat on the door. No response.

Weiss stepped back and kicked the door, then kicked it again, fury lending her blows the force her strength lacked. The door swung wide, revealing a silver-haired man sitting at a plain wooden table, a bowl of something in front of him, a spoon just short of his lips.

"I do weddings on Tuesdays."


End file.
